in the ring / harry styles

8- A New Direction

The next morning, I woke up to a faint, early light creeping through our dorm window, spilling over the mess of our room. My head felt heavy, my mind clouded with thoughts of last night—Harry's touch, his words, the look in his eyes that seemed to see straight through me. I lay there for a moment, replaying it all in my mind, every detail sharper than it should have been, like a memory that refused to settle.

I sat up slowly, glancing around our shared space. Emilia's side was perfectly organized as usual, her books and notes stacked in neat rows, everything in its place. I could smell the faint trace of her lavender oil on the air, a calming contrast to the scent of Lynn's vanilla-scented perfume lingering in the fabric of the room. Lynn's corner, as always, looked like it had been caught in the middle of a whirlwind—her desk was piled with loose papers, open textbooks, and last night's empty coffee cup. My own spot was somewhere in between, a mix of half-organized chaos and last-minute attempts at cleaning up. This mess was home, and I loved it, even if it never looked quite like the pictures of neat dorm rooms in magazines.

But my mind was elsewhere, replaying the way Harry's voice had settled over me, that quiet intensity that lingered even now, stirring a strange mix of excitement and unease.

I finally pulled myself out of bed, got dressed, and made my way to our favorite coffee shop, a small, cozy place squeezed between an old bookstore and a dry cleaner's. The smell of fresh coffee and warm pastries hit me the moment I stepped inside, and I spotted Emilia by the window, already nursing her mug. She looked up when she saw me and lifted an eyebrow, clearly curious and waiting for me to spill everything.

"So," she said, drawing out the word as she stirred her coffee, clearly waiting for me to spill everything. Her expression was that familiar mix of amusement and curiosity she wore whenever something big was happening, and I knew she wouldn't let me off the hook.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my face neutral as I reached for my own coffee. "It's... complicated," I said, hoping the vague answer would hold her off.

But, of course, Lynn showed up a second later, sliding into the seat next to me with a grin that suggested she already knew exactly what Emilia was asking. "Complicated, huh?" she said, nudging me with her elbow. "From what I saw last night, it didn't look complicated at all. Just intense."

I felt my face heat up, and I tried to shrug it off, though I knew my blush was giving me away. "It's just... different," I said, struggling to find the right words. "There's more to him than he's letting on. Like there's this whole side of him that's hidden."

Emilia's expression softened as she looked at me, her concern clear. "Just be careful, Lucy. There's nothing wrong with a little excitement, but don't lose yourself. You know how that went last time."

I nodded, knowing she was right. I'd been down that road before, letting someone in too fast and getting swept away, only to find myself on the other side, wondering who I'd become. Emilia didn't have to say it outright, but her reminder was clear enough.

I tried to brush it off, but I couldn't ignore the weight of her words or the way last night kept looping through my mind. That mix of fear and thrill, like I was standing on the edge of something big.

—---

After coffee, we said our goodbyes, and I headed across campus, my steps slow as I tried to focus on the day ahead. The sun was higher now, warming up the crisp morning air, and the quad was bustling as students crisscrossed paths, their voices blending into a steady hum. But my mind was still foggy, weighed down by the thoughts Emilia's words had stirred. I wanted to believe I could handle it, that I could stay grounded and not let myself get swept up again.